Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Somalia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Los Fastidios to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
The Names,
Neu!,
Howard Jones,
ABC,
Drexciya,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Spoonie Gee,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wolf Eyes,
Livin' Joy,
CMW,
Funkadelic,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dennis Brown,
EPMD,
Max Romeo,
Interpol,
Popol Vuh,
Aural Exciters,
Talk Talk,
Jacques Brel,
Roger Hodgson,
Thompson Twins,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pierre Henry,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Albert Ayler,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lebanon Hanover,
Yazoo,
LL Cool J,
the Slits,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Flipper,
Soulsonic Force,
The Young Rascals,
Wasted Youth,
Can,
June of 44,
Idris Muhammad,
Bush Tetras,
Peter and Kerry,
Rakim,
Hasil Adkins,
Dead Boys,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Motions,
Trumans Water,
Harmonia,
Gregory Isaacs,
Yaz,
Das Ding,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
John Holt,
Jawbox,
Byron Stingily,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.